62 
that medicines are your friends, dear little girl, but 
never trifle with them.” 
It was God who made them, thought Mary. 
“ My cousins Hortensia and Coronaria love to 
grow in garden borders. I am sure I could not 
breathe there. They do not know what it is to live 
in such a pleasant place as this.” 
The Anemone had never talked so long before. 
She was quite tired, and her voice grew fainter and 
fainter. She always stopped dancing when she 
talked, and standing still seemed to fatigue her very 
much. With a sweet smile and kindly nod she 
seemed to bid farewell to Mary, as if she did not care 
for her society any longer, for Anemones are like 
some people, who are blown about by every wind, 
and always think the last breeze the best. So Mary, 
with her little brother, tripped over the meadow to 
hear some other flower-story. 
